


Unanswered

by MyckiCade



Series: These Lines Will Blur [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Language, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:23:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyckiCade/pseuds/MyckiCade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them had entered into their arrangement looking for anything long-term. Derek's heart apparently hadn’t read the fine print.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unanswered

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what the frick possessed me to write this. I’ll re-read it, later on, and ask myself why the frick I ever even posted it, in the first place. (In other words, this is the kind of stuff I write, when I get tired).

“ _Goodbye_ s _aren't meant to be easy, Derek.”_

 

Derek had never felt his mother's words as deeply as the present moment, staring across the pillow at his still-sleeping lover.

 _Ex-lover,_ his mind taunted, evilly. _This is the last time, remember? You both agreed._

Frowning, Derek reached out to brush his thumb against Chris' cheek. No, it wasn't going to be easy to walk away, not now.

_Not ever._

Neither of them had entered into their arrangement looking for anything long-term, just a warm body and the occasional, sympathetic ear. Someone to watch the other's back when shit neither of them could control went sour. Just... _someone._ Only problem was, Derek's heart apparently hadn't read the fine print.

He loved Chris, and he'd made his peace with that, a long time ago. The feelings weren't returned, oh, Derek knew that much, without even having to say the words, aloud. Chris didn't need him, either. After all, he'd been the one to declare that they'd run their course, as-was. Derek was going to get out of that bed, get dressed, and walk out the front door, all with the knowledge that Chris was going to be just fine with that.

_Happier._

It was his own damned fault that he was going to end up heartbroken. It could have ended, quick and simple, the night before. Stood in the middle of Chris' kitchen, at opposite sides of the island counter, it could have been over. Derek could have turned, and left. But, no, he'd asked for one more night, just one last go. Chris hadn't seemed particularly opposed, and Derek had yet to decide whether that fact made him more content, or worse-off. Either he'd wanted it, too, or it just plain didn't matter. In the end, it was obvious, but... He couldn't blame himself for trying. For hoping.

 _For trying what, you idiot? What did you hope to accomplish? He wasn't going to wrap himself around you, and beg you to stay. He doesn't love you. He doesn't need you. He doesn't_ want you.

Derek was pretty sure that the last, dangling piece of his broken heart fell to a shattering demise, with that last bit of mockery. Though, he would never admit as much.

My, he was being a bit dramatic about the entire ordeal.

Drawing in a deep breath, Derek tore his gaze away from Chris, and pulled himself into an upright position. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting his elbows against his thighs. This was what Chris had asked of him, and it was what he was going to do. Someone just had to convey that thought to his legs.

For good or bad, he couldn't very well leave the house, naked. A cursory glance around the room saw his jeans on the floor, one leg half-under the bed. His shirt was draped over the top of the dresser, and Lord only knew where his boxers had gone. He sighed, and pushed himself to stand, realizing his examination of the room for what it was. Stalling was going to get him nowhere. Shot, maybe, if Chris woke up to find him still lingering about, but, nowhere _productive._

He dressed as quietly as possible, not wanting to risk waking Chris, who was still sound asleep against his pillow. Derek pulled on his socks, which he'd found tangled in the very ends of the blankets, and moved toward the door. To his own credit, he only stopped for a brief moment to stare back at the bed. Memorizing. His instincts were at war. Part of him was already inching back toward the comfort of the recently-vacated pillow. The rest of him was ready to drag the first part, kicking and screaming and howling, out of the Argent home. Out of the older man's life.

_You don't belong here, and you know it._

It was everything he had in him to look away. Once he did, there was nothing stopping him from moving to the hallway, where he found his right shoe. The left one was on the stairs, under Chris' shirt. Derek put both shoes on, once he reached the living room, then picked up his discarded jacket from the back of the sofa. It smelled like Chris, like fresh air, and a crisp night in the woods.

He allowed himself one deep inhale, taking in the scent, eyes closed... before he shook the last few months out of his mind, and showed himself out.

As the door clicked shut, Chris turned on to his back, staring up at the bedroom ceiling. He tried to remind himself that it was for the best, running through a mental list of the benefits of letting Derek go.

_He's safer, this way._

_He'll find someone else, someone who can give him what you can't._

_You know what happens to the people you love._

Convinced, if only for the moment, Chris stayed where he was. Waiting. Knowing that Derek wasn't going to come back, but hoping, all the same. Fingers clenching around bunches of blanket, Chris sighed. At least there hadn't been a _goodbye._

Except... that thought was heading in another direction, entirely. All that the night before had been about was _goodbye,_ parting ways, and accepting that it just wasn't going to work out. There wasn't supposed to have _been_ anything to 'work out', from the start, yet, there it _obviously_ was. And, he was being a coward about it. As soon as the realization had hit him, the very moment that Chris came to the conclusion that he was in love with the Hale boy, he'd panicked. Backed out. Nothing good ever came from him loving _anyone._ Victoria, Kate, Allison, all people that he held dear, had been stolen away from him. He couldn't risk losing Derek, too.

_Isn't that what you're fucking doing, anyway?_

_Idiot._

Chris blinked, hard. Twice.

“ _Jesus Christ,_ ” he cursed, rushing out from beneath the covers. Snatching up a pair of sweatpants from the laundry basket beside the nightstand, he stepped into them as quickly as he could. There was plenty of time, he kept telling himself. Didn't believe a word of it. He grabbed his shirt up off the stairs, yanking it on in his hurry to get to the entrance. Barefoot, he flung open the door, and stepped onto the porch. “ _Derek!”_

Half-way down the street, jean-clad thighs stopped moving.

 

_“Goodbyes aren't meant to hurt us, either. They're meant to test our conviction.”_


End file.
